Take your pictures, friend. I see you in there. Warm, are you? Hungover, are you? Yes, I suppose you're a bit of both. You needn't worry. I'm out here for the both of us. Pay no attention to the inches of accumulation or the frost forming on my wings. I am the idle hand of God. I am Plane. I am the plane that will take you above the clouds, where the sun always shines, while cold fury wreaks havoc upon your world below. Feed me your belongings, then climb into my belly. I will taxi through this slushy mire with the stolid determination of an aged general. When it is time, I will let out my shrill bellow and you will watch the air behind my wings shimmer into oblivion as it is all...burned...away. The snow can only fall. Let me show you what I can do.Take your pictures, friend. I see you in there.
It was 72 degrees when I left.
ReplyDeleteI'm never coming back.